


spring

by QuentinDrinksBoneHurtingJuice (scorpiolocks1)



Category: Dark Shadows (1966)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:55:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23295856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiolocks1/pseuds/QuentinDrinksBoneHurtingJuice
Summary: How many members of the Collinwood staff can Quentin conceivably have been involved with? I'm going to go out in a limb here and say, yes. A bit of classic Gothic Romance style indulgence ft. everyone's favorite werewolf/ghost/immortal.
Relationships: Quentin Collins/OC, Quentin Collins/Reader
Kudos: 8





	spring

**Author's Note:**

> This is a Discord Chat request but honestly its so wrong that there's nothing under the Quentin/Reader tag like hello?? That's our resident hotboi?? Also this is very rusty but I'm low on sleep and all I've read this month is Daphne Du Maurier.

I heard him on the stairs that evening. It was inevitable that it should happen eventually; even in a house as big as this one, there was only so long you could go on avoiding someone, anyone; and he certainly wasn’t avoiding me. It was Spring turned nearly to Summer; I came down the back stairway with linens piled high in my arms, and before I could turn the corner he came bounding in the back door. I shouldn’t have turned to look; I knew it was him by the long, easy stride and the familiar way he let himself in; but he said, too loudly, “Have you seen Jamison?” and I did.

I had not missed him. I had convinced myself of that. He was foolish and rotten and given to cruelty; but not now. Now he was flushed and happy from larking around in the warm out-of-doors with his nephew, his dark hair windswept and his eyes shining. And I had missed him, and I hated it.

I willed the linen pile to be higher, to cover my face somehow, and said. “No, sir, I haven’t.”

I watched his lips curl into a that sly grin. “Oh, that’s you under there, is it?”

He had a way of making one feel caught red-handed, always. I hadn’t done anything wrong, but I wanted to run from him, drop the linens and take off out the door and across the grounds.

Instead I said, willfully keeping my voice pleasant and professional, “Can I do anything for you, sir?” “Oh, come now,” I jumped, the linen pile had obstructed my view and I hadn’t seen him draw so near, “You can drop the attempt at formality. Where have you been hiding yourself away?”

“I have my duties to perform...sir.”

He let out a little huff of a laugh. “Duties that keep you well away from me I suppose.” All of an instant he had whisked the pile of bedsheets from me, depositing it lopsided on the second stair. “Now then, I believe you’re the only person left in this house I need to properly catch up with.”

I put on a brave face, and attempted to sound smug. “I trust your trip was a pleasant one? Though you’re back sooner than I'd expected.” I had wanted this to come out barbed and feisty but my voice cracked, the slightest but, and I know he didn’t fail to notice.

If he took any offense he didn’t show it, only catching my eye sideways and moving closer to me. “Oh, Egypt was very lovely. But one misses the comforts of home.”

I didn’t miss the sarcasm in his voice when he said “comforts”. I considered briefly that aside from Jamison, this may have been the warmest welcome he’d received yet. We were eye to eye now, though of course I had to look up at him. This close he smelled of spiced sandalwood and the warm grass he and Jamison had no doubt been rolling about in. I swallowed, struggling to regain my bearings on the conversation, an excuse to put some distance between us.

“I really must attend to the bedrooms...sir.”

“Please,” he said, looking at me earnestly, “don’t pretend.” His hands found my wrists, pressed tightly to my sides, and encircled them, tracing loose circles with his thumbs. “I did miss you.”

Now it was my turn to laugh bitterly. “You didn’t even bother to say goodbye.”

“I didn’t want to risk you losing your position over what I was about to do.”

It was nonsense. Another lie. But he was speaking close to my ear now, his voice that low whispery volume, and I wanted to believe it, if only for this moment.

“Why did you go?” I managed. “Why with her?”

He drew back, took my chin in one hand and raised it to meet my eye. “You would have gone with me if I’d asked you?”

_Of course_ , I wanted to say, _anywhere_

But that was admitting too much. I said, “I don’t know. You might have asked.”

He laughed then, a real laugh, and pulled me close to him, pressing his cheek to mine and speaking into my ear. “I missed you, you know, I really did. You would have loved it; the next time I go I’ll take you with me.”

There was a noise; not on the stairs, but somewhere in the darkness above them; he released me and for a minute we stood like statues, my heart pounding. But whoever it was didn’t stop and kept moving down the upstairs hall. I watched his eyes; robin’s egg blue; follow the sound, and his face broke out into that childish self satisfied smile when they’d gone. “Tonight,” He whispered, taking my hand again and squeezing it, “In the gazebo. I’ll bring champagne, and I'll tell you all about Egypt. Wait till ten or whenever that stupid brother of mine puts his lights out.”

“I won’t be there,” I said, “It isn’t right.” And it wasn't. But he only smiled; wolfish, eyes sparkling. And bounded off calling after a shadow that could have been Jamison. And why should he argue the point after all? I knew I would be.


End file.
